Smoldering Desire (12 page)

Fortunately, Drew and Taylor were such good friends that Drew felt comfortable enough to be so free with her, they were as close as sisters. 

Send me another one, Drew silently begged.  Her wish was answered when a dick, the size of a medium size banana, filled the screen. 

“Oh my.”  Drew pressed her legs together, her pussy began to throb.  “I want to taste him, I want to swallow him and I want him to fuck me,” she whispered.  She shoved the thought of going to the bathroom and masturbating to relieve herself out of her head.  “I wonder what he looks like.”

“Ask him to send a head shot.”

“I don’t know, I don’t want to end the fantasy.”

“It’s better to learn the truth now instead of five phone sex calls later,” Taylor said reasonably. 

“You’re right.  I’ll ask him.”  Drew immediately sent another e-mail.  She crossed her fingers and nervously waited.  “Come on, come on.” 

Three minutes later she got the e-mail.  She instinctually reached out then hesitated, she looked at her friend.  “I’m scared.” 

“Do it or I will!” Taylor ordered.

“Okay.”  Drew took a couple deep breaths, her stomach rolled.  She clicked on it.  Blond hair filled the screen.

“Looking good,” Taylor encouraged.  “Scroll down.”

Next came a set of well-maintained eyebrows.

“I’m liking it so far.  Would you pick up the pace, I’ll be an old lady by the time you finish.” 

“Relax, relax, I’ll do it.”  Sexy green eyes stared back at her, she scrolled down to take in the whole face.  “He cannot be real,” Drew whispered.  “He can’t be.”  She could’ve sworn she was looking at a model.  Drew noticed that he had included his name and phone number.  “He’s so gorgeous.  Why would someone who looks like him want to date me?” she muttered.

Taylor wanted to slap her friend, sometimes she barely had enough self-esteem to fill a shot glass.  “You’re gorgeous.  Men are always trying to talk to you.”

“Yeah,” Drew acknowledged, “but none who looks like him.  Look at him, he looks like a model for Abercrombie and Fitch.  He is fine…but maybe that isn’t him, maybe this is someone else’s picture.”

“Damn, I hope not, I would hate it if this wasn’t him.  I’d die if he’s really some sixty-year-old bald man with a big stomach and a big droopy dick.  Come on let’s call him, to see if the voice matches the picture,” Taylor suggested. 

“Nu uh, I’ll call him by myself.  I don’t need you listening in.  I’ll do it tonight, when I get home,” Drew decided. 

“No do it now, obviously he isn’t doing anything right now, except for sending you naked pictures of himself.”

“I don’t know, we really should get back to work,” Drew stalled.

“Yeah right!  You really want to work?  Or do you want to set up a fuck date.”

Drew looked at her friend, her eyes wide with optimism.  “Maybe he’s looking for something substantial, maybe he wants a relationship.”

Taylor snorted.  “Yeah, that’s why he’s sending pictures of that fabulous dick of his.  And if I remember you haven’t seen one in quite a while, so…” she nodded towards the exit.  “Go call him!”

Drew peeked over her shoulder.  Her boss was nowhere in sight.  “Okay.  I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Whatever,” Taylor answered breezily.

Drew quickly entered Braxton’s number into her phone.  She hurried through the office and out the door.  The hot July sun greeted her when she pushed the door open, she blinked against the brightness.  She strolled over to one of the small bistros that were scattered around the small park like setting. 

She glanced up at the building to see if Taylor was peeking down on her, she wasn’t.  She called him, her heart thudding. 

“Hello?”  Drew remained quiet.  “Hello?”

Drew cleared her throat.  “Braxton?”

“Yes.”

“Hi this is Drew.  The lady you’ve been e-mailing pictures to.”

Braxton chuckled softly.  “Did you enjoy them?”

“I did.  Is that really you?”

“Yep!  One hundred percent.”

Thank you Jesus
.  “So why do you want to meet me?”

Braxton smiled, although Drew couldn’t see it, she could hear it in his voice.  “Because you’re beautiful, because you took my breath away, because I want to fuck you.”

His response was so unexpected, so raw, that it stunned her.  Drew dropped her head in her hands.  “You want to fuck me?” she squeaked, no man had ever been so brazen with her before, she liked it.

“I want to fuck you until you beg me to stop.  And I will,” he promised.

Hunger flashed in her and jettison to her clit.  Drew flushed hot.  “What would you do to me?” she whispered, not believing what she just asked, not believing that she was engaging in phone sex right in front of the building where she should be working.

“First I’d smother my face in your beautiful titties, then I’d lick them softly, until you moan in my ear.”

“Then what?” Drew asked, her voice shaking and her pussy throbbing.  Her hand inched up her leg towards her mound, she shot a furtive glance toward the building. 

Braxton laughed.  “Am I getting you excited?”

“A little,” Drew answered, shyly, not really wanting to admit how hot he was making her. 

“Are your panties wet?”

“Yes.”

“I want to smell you then taste you.”

“I want you to.”

“Good.”

“Is that really you in the picture?”  Drew asked again, she had to be sure. 

“Yes.  So when are we going to meet?”

The Committee - $.99

He studied the five spirits floating before Him.  They shimmered and glowed softly.  Lighter than a whisper they were translucent, He could look right through them if He chose to, instead His gaze pierced each one.  And they beamed at Him basking in His love and attention.

“You know why you’re here don’t you?” He asked, His tone pleasant and lyrical.  Not the earth shattering voice most people thought He always used.  He only got loud when upset. 

They all nodded.

“It’s time for my daily nap, and you five have been selected to serve on The Committee.” 

The group didn’t know whether to pump their fists in the air, give shouts of excitement or quake with fear.  None of them knew the etiquette of earning such a coveted spot on The Committee so they reverently eyed Him, waiting for His next words.

“Michael had given each of you profiles on two of my children that I would like you all to keep an eye on while I’m asleep.”

Clay Peterson raised his hand.  He used to be a garbage man, thirty years of his life had been spent picking up strangers’ trash.  His job had given him an exclusive insight into human nature but the back-breaking work had left his body bruised and battered.  Every winter had brought with it a cold that seeped into his bones locking them up.  The only thing that relaxed them was his nightly ritual of an ounce of bourbon while enjoying the warmth from his fireplace.  But none of that mattered now, in his new home, the pain was a memory.

He nodded at him, encouraging him to talk. 

“Um,” he stuttered still awed by Him.  “I mean, what would you like us to do?” he finally stammered.

He smiled
benevolently.  He knew Clay would have questions.  Clay was very methodical and thoughtful.  “My children will be encountering some difficult times in their lives, and I want you all to assist them on their journey.  Since coming Home you have accumulated an insurmountable amount of knowledge. So use it.  One caveat is that you all must agree on every decision.  And remember that sometimes the best decision isn’t always the most popular one.”

Clay grinned, satisfied with the answer.  I’m up to the challenge, he thought and he felt His response.

“I know you are,” He telepathed, connecting intimately with Clay.

Clay glided happily, feeling at one with Him.  He momentarily took in his surroundings.  Flowers sprouted up ten feet with colors so vivid that they’d blind a human.  And lush grass, spread out as far as the eyes can see, was so high that an individual could easily get lost in it for days. 

When he had first come Home, he was overcome by the beauty of it all.  He’d sit for hours drinking in the crystalline birds that soared through the air, leaving trails of vivid purple, red, blue and other unworldly colors behind, it was so magnificent that he would’ve cried if it was possible. 

Beautiful, he reflected before rejoining the group.

“Who will be in charge?  And what happens if we can’t come to an agreement?” Brett Thompkins asked.  In his other life he had been nicknamed Golden Boy, not only because he resembled one with his blond hair and blue eyes, but every deal he touched made millions. As a CEO, he had ruled his corporation as though it was his own country.  At the height of his career, he fired hundreds of his employees, then two months later purchased a five million dollar corporate jet, a move that made him the most hated man in Chicago.  His desire to control didn’t diminish—not even here. 

He tilted His head and grinned.  “You are delightful.  No one is in charge.  You all
will
agree on every decision, and I want you all to respect it.  And I have some rules.  Under no circumstances can you alter the health of
anyone
.  You
cannot
make direct contact with anyone other than your charges.  And keep your visits to Earth to a minimum.  You all should have ample time to do your job for I’ll be asleep for two hours.”

Two years their time, Tyrell Jackson silently calculated.  As a kid he sold drugs, it was the only life he knew.  He sold them to everybody:  Kids, pregnant women and senior citizens, as long as they had money, they were customers.  It wasn’t until he was nineteen-years-old and sitting in the hospital with a gunshot wound in his stomach did he realize that he needed a new life.  As soon as he was released from the hospital, he took all the money he had accumulated and moved to Atlanta.  There he hired a personal nurse who took care of him while he recuperated and who had later became his wife.  She had fallen in love with his boyish good looks.  Culinary school soon followed, for thirty years he ran one of Atlanta’s best soul food restaurants. 

He floated in front of them.  “Any more questions?”  He asked, His voice tired.

“What happens if we can’t complete the task?  It is a huge assignment,” Mavis Watkins said.  For ten years she was a stripper by the name of Cinnamon Twist and was as flexible as a Slinky.  After years of saving her money she had gone to school and gotten a master’s degree in social work, then spent another twenty years rescuing her former co-workers and everybody else who needed it. 

“You will,” He answered confidently.  “Anything else?”  No one said anything.  “All right then.  I’ll see you in a bit.”  With a slight smile, He slowly evaporated. 

They looked at each other, unsure of what to do next. 

“I thought we were done with work,” Brett joked.  “These are supposed to be my golden years.  It sure feels like it.”  A warm breeze flitted by.  Acres of greenery stretched out behind him. 

“But we’re going to be helping people,” the ever optimistic Rachel Pruitt said, “and maybe we can get our wings.”  Contrary to popular belief, everyone who made it to Heaven wasn’t automatically winged.  They had to earn them, much to Rachel’s disappointment.  She had been preparing for her new home her entire life.  As a daughter of a preacher and a wife of one, she figured she’d be given a free pass.  Growing up she always envisioned herself sporting a pair of pure white wings while zooming around Heaven.

“I wonder why He picked us?”

“Yo, I wanted to know the same thing, but I was too scared to ask.  He still makes me nervous,” Tyrell admitted.

Mavis agreed.  “I know, even after all this time.  I still get nervous whenever He comes near me.”  They all agreed.

“I guess our numbers came up.  You know what I’m saying?” Tyrell joked.

The Committee wasn’t a secret, everyone knew about it, but no one knew how He selected the members.  All they knew was that a new Committee was created every day during his nap time. 

Brett snorted.  “He never does anything randomly, everything is done with a purpose.  I think He picked us because we’re the best,” Brett said arrogantly.  This time all eyes turned in his direction.

“Maybe,” Mavis offered, “or maybe, just maybe He wants us to learn something.”

“Maybe He wants us to teach instead of learn,” Rachel said.

“Yo, He could want us to do both,” Tyrell offered.  He spoke from experience, he had spent a lifetime being a teacher and a student of life. 

“It doesn’t really matter why we were picked, the fact is that we’ve been picked,” Clay said.  Everybody turned to him, he had been so quiet, that they had forgotten he was there.

Brett spoke, “I guess it doesn’t matter why we were picked, but we damn well better have a clear idea of what we’re supposed to do.”  The group gasped, no one swore here, ever.